How Bonnie Does Sexual Frustration
by charrrmed
Summary: One does not go in for a kiss when the object of one's affection gave herself a nightmare because she was so determined not to give one an inch.


**Prompt:** "Right to the clit, I swear."

**Summary:** One does not go in for a kiss when the object of one's affection gave herself a nightmare because she was so determined not to give one an inch.

**A/N:** This prompt wasn't intended as one, but one of the people I follow on Tumblr used it as a tag on a Idris Elba photo (I think). I loved it so much that I had to use it in a fic! She's a Bamon fan, so I wrote this for her.

**Kink(?)**: Biting/Blood drinking

**How Bonnie Does Sexual Frustration**

The basement of the witch house was cold, colder than usual. She couldn't remember what season it was. What month was it? She could feel the sleeve of her jacket on the back of her hand, but the cold slipped through so that it felt like she was only wearing a blouse. The basement was dark; the candles were out. The moon illuminated the room, except she knew the moon couldn't be high enough yet to penetrate the basement windows. Someone she couldn't see blew their icy breath at the nape of her neck, and she turned around. The room got colder, her lips chapped, and her nose threatened to run. Her face felt frozen, and she could now see her breath. Something was wrong: she wasn't supposed to be alone.

Just as the thought occurred to her, she heard an unnerving squeal, almost like a child who was about to start crying, made more disturbing by the fact that she knew, she knew, that was her mother. Abby's gut-wrenching scream of her name propelled her into motion and she ran up the stairs. It felt like she was dragging her stomach behind, she was so filled with dread. Never had she heard an adult sound so helpless. How had they gotten separated?

Unlike the basement, the first floor of the house was brilliantly illuminated, as if all of the candles in her collection had been brought here. The room glowed. She could see it before she entered. As soon as she did though, she saw Damon standing in the center with her mother, and no sooner had she laid eyes on them than Damon did a violent move with his arms, and Abby's head turned at an unnatural angle. Bonnie heard the bones in her neck snap, and watched her body sagged.

She couldn't scream, didn't think of screaming. She was horrified. She wasn't cold anymore; she had on too many layers now. She shut her eyes so tight they hurt. She wasn't expecting to wake up, no. She simply shut her eyes, but before she knew it they were open again, and this time Damon had blood on his mouth. Her mother's blood, and he was grinning at her. He looked wild. Primal. Evil and psychopathic.

She never knew Abby.

He was a stranger.

She was frowning too deeply. She was giving herself a headache.

Her neck strained. It would hurt later, too.

"Bonnie!"

Her eyes were shut tight but this time she wanted to open them, wanted to see him, wanted to watch him and make sure he wasn't going to come for her next. She wanted to see what he planned to do with her mother.

"Bonnie, wake the hell up! Shit!" This was another voice, and it sounded like Damon.

"Bonnie." A third voice, this one stern and its owner firmly grasped her arms. "Bonnie."

Abby.

She felt like she was going to swallow her tongue.

"Bonnie wake up, or you'll kill us!" Caroline, the first voice.

She snored deep in her throat in her effort to open her eyes, and she succeeded. Abby and Caroline crowded her, and she was overwhelmed. She shot up, a little familiar with what she was on, a couch, but unaware of what was going on. "Where am I?" Her body was tight with energy.

"You're at the boarding house."

Her mother. She looked at Abby, and she looked fine. She looked at Caroline and she was out of breath. And behind them, Damon wielded a fire extinguisher at one of the book cases.

Upon seeing him, she sprung up off the couch. Her headache almost toppled her over. Now she, too, was out of breath. "What's happening?"

"You're trying to burn this place down!" Damon yelled as he sprayed.

Bonnie felt Caroline put one of her hands in hers and put the other on her shoulder. She leaned into her support. Her head still wasn't clear.

"Are you okay?" Abby asked her.

She'd been dreaming. It had been a nightmare. Numb with relief, she hugged her mother. The longer she held her, the tighter she hugged her, until Abby started to soothe her.

"Hey, it's okay. It was just a dream."

Caroline rubbed her back. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Nothing," she said quietly, and Abby and Caroline shared a look over her shoulder.

The two women eventually dispersed amidst assurances from Bonnie that she was fine. Bonnie went into the kitchen to find an Aleve to soothe her headache, rolling her neck to relieve tension as she went.

She was sitting on the counter, a habit she'd picked up, and squeezing the glass of water when Damon walked in with his ever-present glass of bourbon and blood.

"Want me to drive you home? Because I'm not gonna die tonight because of your witchy nightmares, _and,_ by the way, you owe me a new copy of _Call of the Wild_."

He'd lost more than _Call of the Wild_. The bookshelf was now useless and so were most of the books. Some had burned through completely.

"I think I'm fine," she said, looking down.

"You _think_?"

"Shut up, Damon."

Shut up. This was the first time she'd told him to shut up. She usually found nicer ways to say it, or she'd give him a look. Or she'd talk over him and act like he was nothing more than an object for her to bounce ideas off of as she spoke to herself.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked, leaning against the wall next to the threshold of the kitchen and watching her.

"Nothing."

"I was hoping you said that because you were in the presence of company. I'm not company, and something tells me you're not used to setting things on fire while asleep, otherwise daddy would've addressed you a long time ago."

Bonnie sighed and looked up at him. He lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

She looked away, and Damon waited.

Looking at him again, she revealed, "I dreamt you killed my mother."

His eyebrow was raised a little too high for it to convey the nonchalance he usually had no trouble conveying. Her confession set in, and his mouth straightened, his face draining of all good will. "Hmm."

Bonnie downed the rest of the water and didn't look after him when he walked out.

She didn't see him, but she knew he was in the living room when she came to fold the blanket that, she was sure, he'd put on her when she'd fallen asleep. He was incapable of going to sleep after what she'd told him, she knew.

"You dreamt I killed your mother," he stated.

The corner by the large stained glass window. He had moved one of the armchairs and was currently sprawled on it, his bourbon next to him.

"It was just a dream," she said with her back to him.

"That you had."

He was about to throw a fit, she knew. She folded the blanket in half.

"Why, Bonnie? I thought we were past the big bad vampire who makes game out of the nice family _folk_?"

She looked at the ceiling and folded the blanket again. She faced him when he was at her back. He was, of course, standing way too close.

"How's your head?" He barely moved his mouth to ask the question.

"Still hurts. And just yesterday I watched you rip a vampire's heart out."

"If memory serves me right, you didn't _watch_ me do anything. You walked in on my _holding_ a dead vampire's heart." He was smug in his correction.

Every time she inhaled, he filled her nose. He was wearing this particular scent more frequently, and she didn't mind at all. Something else she'd stopped minding was the amount of times they flirted. Or rather, the amount of times _he_ flirted with _her_. Gradually, the way he spoke to her had become more and more suggestive, despite the fact that he would be talking about Rebekah being on a rampage to make them pay for Klaus' death, or the fact that he'd heard through the vampire grapevine that she'd hooked up with a an old witch who had nothing to lose being that she was in her last years. Their conversations still only started because of town business, but the way they spoke to each other, the amount of liberties he took with his eyes...She never gave him anything back. She has yet to flirt back or start up a conversation, but she told him through her reactions, her exasperated sighs, and her smiles that were more common than she liked, that she was okay with what he was doing.

The truth was that she _enjoyed_ what he did. And that was a problem. Damon was surly, crude, inappropriate, rash and brash, a hothead, violent, and prone to making enemies. The problem was that he wasn't getting bored with her ignoring him and moving on, which was giving her enough time to...appreciate...things about him. He had a good, if dark, sense of humor. He was reliable, inappropriate, surly, funny mostly without meaning to be, and more dramatic than anyone had a right to be. Caroline's dramatics were easier to handle than his were, and she never thought anyone could top Caroline.

His eyes were too blue for her resolve, and his voice...Once upon a time she had been very much in danger of finding Damon Salvatore attractive, but life experiences had created distance between them, which had put out any attraction she felt towards him. But now she was on the market, again, and he was more or less over Elena. Or maybe he was biding his time? She wasn't sure. She didn't start any conversations with him.

But back to his voice. She would swear to...no one, actually...that when he spoke she felt it right in the clit. Like now. It had been too long since someone beside herself gave her an orgasm.

"So basically, you would rather give yourself a nightmare and almost burn my house down than admit you're attracted to me."

If she wanted to, she could pretend he was succeeding at keeping his tone light and uninterested and continue to give him nothing. However, two things stopped her. First, she was tired of giving him nothing. She wanted to try giving back to see what would happen. Second, he'd just mentioned her attraction to him. It was the first time that the "thing" between them had been named.

"Yes," she admitted.

A tense moment passed between them. He wasn't going to walk away again. He was waiting for her to make a move, whether verbal or physical. His eyes were cold and his mouth was drawn tight.

He was hurt. Bonnie sighed and sat heavily on the couch.

"You think I'd kill your mom. I mean I know she doesn't like me much-" He was still standing.

"No I don't think you'd kill my mom," she cut him off tiredly. "I think my _issues_ are starting to chase me in my sleep," she said defeatedly.

"And what issues could those possibly be?" He sat on the couch and sprawled, leaving enough space between them for her to know he was still offended.

"You just said it."

"Refresh my memory. That vampire had a century on me and managed to get a couple of licks in, so everything up there hasn't quite-"

"You!" She spat the confession. She looked at him and said, "You. Okay?"

"Full sentences, please."

She rolled her eyes to keep from smiling. He was going to make her pay for the dream. "I can walk away from this conversation," she threatened.

"Do. Please do. I can't _wait _to see what you burn down next."

He was right. She has had nightmares since developing her powers, horrifying nightmares, but they had never manifested through her powers.

She sprang off the couch and said, "There's a _thing _between us."

"Didn't you ever learn to specify your argument?"

"I thought Stefan was the scholar," she retorted dryly, standing before him.

"I dated an English professor once."

"No you didn't." Her derision was palpable.

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "You're the only one in this room who's banged a professor."

"_Anyways. _There's a thing between us, and I'm not...dealing with it well."

"I think you're hot."

She emitted a small, helpless sound.

"And you think _I'm_ hot."

She smiled and dropped back down next to him, closer to him. "Do you have to sound like that?"

"You dreamt about me because you're frustrated. I frustrate you," he needled. He had no self-control when it came to gloating.

"I don't wanna be attracted to you." She was almost whining.

"You're only saying that because you haven't experienced the _benefits_ that come with being attracted to me."

"Yeah, that's the _only _reason," she said sarcastically, looking at him.

But speaking of those benefits...well...her denial, her ego rather, was now a threat to the safety of others. So maybe she could explore this thing between them. For the safety of others.

She fixed herself on the couch so that most of her body faced him. He didn't budge. When she told him to show her the benefits, his smirk slowly disappeared.

"Come on," she invited him, and, to give more incentive, she ghosted her fingers over his cheek.

That got him to straighten his posture, but he left her the burden of taking the lead. One does not go in for a kiss when the object of one's affection gave herself a nightmare because she was so determined not to give one an inch.

Bonnie did more than take the lead, and she gave him more than an inch. She kissed him and lost herself in it, became greedy, forgot to stop for breath because kissing Damon was better than the few fantasies she had allowed herself to have. And maybe denying herself hadn't been such a bad thing in the long run, because she wasn't sure she would've appreciated the way he used his tongue and teeth if she'd spent every waking moment thinking about it.

He had to force her away. He grinned, but Bonnie dropped another surprise: before he could make a comment, she hefted herself, pushed him back on the couch, and straddled him.

"Holy sh-"

Damon had fantasized too. And this...was right out of one of his fantasies. She was all warmth and life and energy contained in a small package above him as she retook his mouth and kissed him until he didn't want her to stop. Her shirt rode up, allowing his fingers to connect with her supple skin. He teased the skin at her waist and took the liberty of lifting her shirt higher, exposing most of her back, just short of her bra strap.

Bonnie briefly wondered how he could kiss so well while his hands tried to under all of her resolve. He scooted to the edge of the couch, which allowed her to better straddle him. This in turn brought her crotch closer to his. When she left his lips to drag in air that was desperately needed, he went for her neck. His hands went higher on her back and connected with her bra strap. She twined her hands in his hair, and...for someone who dealt with necks on a Need to Live basis, he really wasn't impressive with the necking. Nevertheless, this moment was like drinking a cold bottle of water after spending the better half of a day thinking about it, like passing out after forcing herself to stay conscious long enough to complete a spell, like having Caroline on your team during a game of Pictionary. In short, it was gratifying and debilitatingly so.

She pulled at his hair enough the let him know that she wanted his attention, but he denied her when she went in for more kisses.

"I don't wanna look a gift horse in the mouth, but how far are we taking this exactly?"

"I didn't do this to myself for this long just to stop at-" She stopped short and got off him, pulling her shirt down in the process. She blew out a breath and asked, "Where's your bedroom?" Her mother and Caroline were still in the house, and she did _not _want either of them coming down for a drink only to be stopped by the sound of two people going at it.

Damon stood, and her heart and stomach spasmed at the intensity radiating off of his face. She even took a step back, the first time in a _long _time she's ever backed away from him. He picked her up, and she consciously wrapped her legs around him. She felt the sudden need to rub against his torso, his unexpected movement having revved her libido.

He walked slowly to his room. He made sure his feet planted firmly on every step that lead to the second floor. He didn't kiss her. He looked at her, all of her: her neck, her nose, her jaw, her cheeks, her eyes. He put her under scrutiny, and she was nervous in no time. His hands stayed firm and secure under her ass, and she felt like she'd been cornered. Damon would never stop giving off an air of danger. She realized now that the idea was impossible. He liked imposing, loved making people nervous, loved making their skin crawl and making them uncomfortable. He loved to intimidate and make the heart rate triple. He loved being a predator. And he always did it on purpose. It turned him on. She found that out when he set her on her feet just inside his room and pressed her against the door. The trip had hardened his dick, and she realized that he'd been looking at her in order to observe the slightest nervous ticks, and she wouldn't be surprised if he'd also used that time to listen to heartbeat and the uncertain rolling in her stomach.

He turned the light on and captured her mouth, and she memorized the feel of his dick pressing against her. It was his turn to be greedy. He kissed her deep and fast, hungry for her reactions, hungry for the way she pulled at the back of his shirt before pressing her hand against it, wanting him to get closer, hungry for the way she keened in his mouth.

Bonnie's chest grew tighter and tighter as she ran out of breath, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she pushed at his chest and got him away from her, held him at arms length while her lips tingled as a result of his kissing, of how horny she was, and of how undead he was. She'd never slept with a vampire before. She grinned and took her shirt off, her hair fanning out around her afterward. She got rid of her bra and then took off her shoes and pants and her underwear while he took off his shirt.

He went for his pants, and she moved his hands out of the way, taking over and unbuckled, unzipped, and then shoved his pants to his ankles.

A smile pulled at her lips. "Of course you don't wear underwear."

"I'm not _wearing _underwear. They come in handy on occasion," he said with a little shrug.

"Mmm-hmm." He had an impressive cock, and she thanked the stars. She had yet to experience a disappointing cock, aesthetically speaking, and she was sure Damon would keep her experience with good performances going, despite his less than impressive necking abilities.

His cock jumped when she grabbed it, and her eyebrow twitched appreciatively. He moved forward when she pulled him, and his eyes blazed desirously when she rubbed the length of her pussy with his cock, and she let out a short chuckle.

He turned his head slightly to the right in question.

"You're dead."

"Ah." He hasn't slept with a witch since Bree. He'd forgotten about the whole "can feel death" thing that they had going on.

He moved closer and rested his hands above her head on the door while she rubbed his dick on her pussy. He kissed her, and it was when she moved her hand from the base of his cock to the middle that he realized that she wasn't going to stop until-

Bonnie smiled when understanding dawned on him. His cock stiffened another degree in her hands and she moved the tip to her entrance so that it would catch the pre come that was pooling there. His cock was hard enough that she could use it to masturbate. She rubbed herself thoroughly, rubbed small sections of her pussy at a time until she'd made it up to her clitoris where she increased the pressure of his cock on her pussy and of her hand on his cock.

Their breaths intermingled and she kept a steady grip on his hips, occasionally dipping her hand behind to grab his ass.

He stared at her as if the tip of his cock slathering up and down her pussy wasn't making him manic with the desire to lift her up and fuck her against the door. His eyes were almost glazed over with the want, but the pleasure on her face was more potent. Her forehead was just a little bit furrowed, the look on her eyes just a little bit needy, her mouth opening and closing, her swallowing more calculated and pronounced.

Bonnie leaned her head against the door and lifted onto her toes as she focused on her clit. She couldn't tell whether or not the orgasm was going to be satisfactory, but the buildup felt damn amazing. His hard cock felt damn amazing. The head of it on her clit felt damn amazing. He kissed her and she rubbed herself faster, knowing she couldn't possibly hurt him with the speed she was going, but hoping it still felt good for him. Her vulva opened and closed as her orgasm neared and she moaned in his mouth before cutting off the kiss. She rested her head on the door again and moved her hand from his hip onto her thigh, caressing her thigh as she got closer and closer.

He was a sight, masturbation material come to life. He breathed slower the closer she got. His mouth was open; he stood stock still, and his eyes ravished her. He was aroused by watching her, by watching how she was using his cock, and she was aroused by him being turned on by her.

"Oh. Yes."

She looked down and the head of his white cock continuously hit the bottom of her black mound. She used her other hand to spread her labia to giver her clit more exposure. "Oh God," she breathed as she bumped her head against the door, and he took his turn to look down. He cursed and unwittingly smeared her clit with pre come as a result of what his saw. The image of his cock teasing the shit out of her clit would remain seared in his mind for the days to come.

Bonnie finally drove herself over the edge, and she shuddered through it. The fall was brief but promising: her entrance felt dense with unshed come and her clit was primed for stronger orgasms.

"And that's just the _tip_," Damon said.

Her breath rushed out with a laugh and she shook her head. "That was good." She let go of his cock to rub her clit with her fingers.

Damon took his boots off and stepped out of his pants. He kneeled and looked up at her. When she got the hint and left her clit alone, he hiked one of her legs on one of his shoulders and started eating her. He tasted the foreshadow of his ejaculation on her clit and sucked heartily, stopping only when she started flexing her lithe fingers on his scalp, a clue that she could feel her orgasm approaching.

His eating was a lot better than his necking. Bonnie licked her lips and breathed through her nose while he stalled on making her orgasm. The tip of his tongue felt heavenly just inside her entrance, and the image of him craning his neck to lick her just right made her stomach somersault. He gave her mound a nice bite and stood, putting her lifted leg around his waist. She looped her arms around his neck when he lifted her other leg.

"We're gonna go higher than that," he said matter-of-factly.

"Higher? Oh G-"

The rest of her surprise died in her throat as she was seized by a wave of exhilaration. She was bounced as he hooked his arms under her knees, and then without bending his knees to support his back, he lifted her against the wooden door. She cursed through her laughter, out of nervousness and excitement. Her heart raced, and she put her right hand flat against the door for balance and used it to scale herself upward, and she put her left hand on the door, next to her head, also for balance. She went up and up until her vagina faced his mouth. She was looking down at him and he was looking up at her.

"Don't get too crazy up there. One wild move, and," he followed the trajectory of her fall with his head.

"And you'd do nothing to catch me?" she asked, her tone completely dry.

Damon recognized that she was, for the first time, literally looking down at him as opposed to the usual where she did it with her tone of voice.

"I think you put me up here for a reason?" she pointed out with a quirked brow. He looked at her pussy, but he didn't move, so she grabbed his head and forced him to make contact with her vagina, and laughed. She felt him smile against her.

Her vantage point allowed her to take a look at his bedroom. It was spacious like the sitting room downstairs. She kept her bedroom stuffed: with dressers, pillows, nightstands, a desk. She liked the homey feel of a crowded bedroom, she had since she lived with her father. She now lived primarily in her grandmother's old house and she'd transformed the master bedroom. She'd also done the same to the one lived-in bedroom she kept at the witches' house, for the exhausting nights when she slept over there instead of making the trip home.

Damon had the largest bed she had ever seen.

Bonnie kept herself as stiff as possible while he ate her out, because she felt precarious in her position with only his hands holding her weight through her things. If she relaxed too much, she would slip between him and the door and land on her ass. It was hard to keep her composure, however, because he was good and he kept making noises to suggest that he was enjoying himself very much, and he was just completely unconcerned with the fact that she needed to keep from falling. So she jerked in response to him nibbling on her clit; her right hand slipped when he sucked it with little pressure, and her thighs quivered when he eventually increased the pressure.

He let out long, reverent moans while sucking her, and she was a trembling mess against the door. She wanted to hold his head to keep him close, but she didn't trust herself not to fall. She tapped her head against the door and cursed his name. Her feet started to curl as her orgasm approached. It occurred to her that he hadn't faltered once while holding her. Save for her jerking, she was in the exact same position where he'd lifted her. Except for his fingers squeezing her thighs while he immersed himself in eating her out, his arms, and almost his entire body, were still as a statue.

"Damn it," she huffed. Her orgasm rolled through her in waves, each stronger than the last, built to a crescendo, and all she wanted was to close her thighs around his head.

Her twitches subsided, but Damon still sucked softly on her clit. She looked at him and he said, "Going down." She nodded, and she was lowered to the floor. Her body ached from the tension. The big bed called to her. She wanted to roll around on the sheets.

Damon was on the same wavelength. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him. He hiked her up so that her breasts were level with his mouth, and he laved them as he walked. Impressively, he knew exactly when they'd reached the bed even though he didn't seem to be paying attention to where he was walking. There was no bumping or awkward tumbling.

Bonnie clung to him like Velcro while he played with her breasts.

Damon had gotten a taste of her come, heard her curses and felt her tremble, and he wanted more. He wanted the rigid, attitudinal, at times condescending, powerful and hot witch writhing all over his bed and pleading with him to make her come some more. More, more, and more. He wanted her to be so heated that her next breath hinged on his ability to make her come just one more time.

He was close to giving her that first orgasm that would lead to her begging when she stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Bonnie said breathlessly as she lifted his head. She scooted off the bed and ran towards her clothes, haphazardly throwing them on.

"What the hell are you doing?" If she thought that she was suddenly going to have some crisis of morals or integrity or whatever the hell kind of excuse she'd been using this whole time to keep away from him, then the fire she'd caused earlier was going to look like child's play compared to the hell he was going to raise if she denied him.

"_Wait_." She was beyond catching her breath. Barefoot, she left the room and did a brisk walk-jog to the room her mother occupied, acutely aware of the heaviness between her legs and sorely missing Damon's mouth.

She knocked and could barely wait to be answered. "It's me."

Abby opened the door, completely _not_ in her sleeping clothes, which is another reason why her idea was a good one. Who knew whether she or Caroline would decide to roam the hall for whatever reason.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She hoped she looked it. "I was just wondering if you had some sage," she knew perfectly well that she did, "And if I could have a stick."

"Uh, yeah," Abby said, retreating into the room to grab her one. "Why?" she asked, when she returned and handed it to her.

"I like the smell, you know...I think I need it after that nightmare."

"Yeah, what was that about? It's a pretty serious thing when a witch starts using her powers in her sleep, especially the offensive ones."

"Yeah," she tried to look relaxed, "I know." She mumbled "Trust me." "But," she continued in her normal voice, "I'll tell you about it tomorrow," or another day, "My head still hurts."

"Okay," Abby agreed, still looking curious.

"Good night."

"Night."

She tried to walk away like a normal person because she could feel Abby's gaze on her. She failed. Nevertheless, she turned the corner that would lead her to her room and once she heard Abby's door close, she stopped short and went into Damon's room. She was thankful for the fact that despite the progress she and Abby had made on their relationship, they still weren't at the point where they could question each other's suspicious behavior out loud.

Damon was wearing his floor out when she closed the door behind her, pacing the room like a caged animal. A hot, naked caged animal with his dick pointing straight up. It was nice to know he could compartmentalize his emotions, at least, and let them coexist. She smiled to herself.

She held up the sage and asked if he had a lighter.

"No," he answered, like she'd just insulted him.

She made an exasperated sound in her throat. "Do you have a bowl? A non-flammable one?"

He swallowed whatever argument he had and fetched her one of the bowls in which he kept his small hand towels, and she watched his ass as he went, already thinking about taking off her clothes.

Bowl in hand, she concentrated on the end of the sage stick, and it lit up in flames. She held it above the bowl and walked slowly towards one of his drawers as she recited the spell that would allow them to keep this a secret. Once the smoke became thinner and longer, signifying the spell was in place, she put the sage in the bowl and positioned the bowl on the dresser.

She turned to him and said proudly, "Complete privacy."

Damon's facial muscles finally relaxed with the knowledge of what she'd done. "A screamer, are we?"

"I can get there. But my mom's still awake, and I _definitely_ don't want this getting to Caroline's ears."

He sped up to her, and the breath she took in allowed her breasts to rub against his chest. "Get naked."

She did with pleasure.

Complete privacy revved both of them up. As soon as she was naked, Damon snatched her up, and she wrapped her legs around him. He threw her on the bed and she bounced, and the hungry and determined look on his face as he prowled towards her open legs gave her the urge to ask him to stop, to hold the pose and the look on his face so that she could masturbate to it. Maybe next time.

And the way he ate her pussy, the way he ate her out until she was incoherent and couldn't see straight convinced her that there would definitely be a next time. She wanted more of him. She wanted to see more of his body, and she wanted more of his lips, tongue, and fingers, as well as the noises he made as he ate and the way he looked at her in the moments when she'd squirreled away from him, needing to catch her breath lest she swallowed her tongue.

"I can't anymore, Damon," she said as she sat with her back to the headboard, her eyes closed as she shook.

She sounded like she was on the verge of annoyance, and Damon smirked, the stain of her come around his mouth an homage to the blood that was usually there. And on that note, this could not end without him getting a bite out of her. He wanted to savor the taste of her blood sliding down his throat, thick, room temperature, and all Bonnie. The thought made his dick jerk and he took a moment to imagine where exactly he would end up biting her.

Her legs stopped shaking, but they felt completely useless. It was good that she wasn't planning on walking anywhere any time soon.

He kissed her and tasted blood. It was on his mind and in his nostrils. He wanted her in his mouth in more ways than one.

They stopped kissing and Bonnie's heart plummeted to her stomach when his face transformed before her, eyes blackening, veins crawling under his eyes, and his fangs descending. She grabbed his head as a reflex, as if she wouldn't have still died if he'd decided to shrug off her human strength and attacked her. But she knew an attack wasn't his intent. He had morphed entirely too slowly. Still, those generic vampyric features symbolized a host of horrible things, a host of horrible experiences.

He returned to his regular face and the fact that he didn't budge told her that he was asking for something. She privately commended him for not flitting his eyes to her throat to be more obvious.

Her worry played out on her face while she held his. Was she really going to let him bite her? What did that mean? Was he going to be an ass about it if she did? Use it against her one day? Think less of her if she let him do it? Was it going to change how he approached her for the worse?

The first question was easy to answer, to her surprise. She struggled with the rest. But when, upon realizing there was an internal struggle, he broke eye contact and started kissing the tops of her breasts, the rest of her questions were ninety percent answered (the leftover ten percent accounting for the unknown future and where the cards would fall), so she went with it:

She gently pushed his shoulders until he sat back, and she got on her knees in front of him. "Where do you want it?"

He let her decision set in. His lips even parted, so surprised was he. And then his lips slowly lifted on one side, and he seriously considered his options, his eyes roving over her as he thought it out: her perky breasts called to him. They were fleshy at the top and he could surely get some succulent drops from the bigger right one. His mouth watered at the thought. There were also her thighs: should he go for the inner thigh? The back of the thigh? Her ass? No, not her ass. Not yet. He left hip? Her wrists were out of the question. Not hot enough. Her neck, on the other hand. The neck was always hot.

So why mess with a classic?

He rose from his haunches and beckoned her over. He was in the zone, so her body felt hotter than usual to his undead touch. He could see the blood flowing under her skin. His ears buzzed with the sound of it. It was more psychological than physical, but his gums ached with the need to bite. He soothed them by unsheathing his fangs.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and felt her pulse with the other. She was calm, much to his surprise. No jumps in her pulse or erratic beating, though she was breathing louder than before.

Bonnie watched him from the corners of her eyes as he appraised her neck. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to act, so she waited. More or less. She could tell he was excited to drink her blood. The deliberate nature of his movement, almost ritualistic, almost as if he wanted to savor the moments leading up to it, told her as much. The way his dick was twitching with expectation made her grin.

He first gave her neck a languorous lick and then sucked the skin that covered her pulse. Bonnie closed her hand around his shaft and gave him a handjob. The suction on her neck lulled her into a sense of security, so she subconsciously tightened her hold on his dick when his fang grazed her skin, and before she could have a second thought, he broke her skin.

The bite hurt. It felt foreign, dangerous, and it left her feeling uncertain. She could feel the blood leaving her body. She registered Damon's lower body thrusting towards her and heard his pleasurable moan as he fed on her, and she got into it. She jerked him off and even let out a small mewl herself. His pre come leaked onto her hand, coating it, and her desire heightened another notch. He pulled her in closer and she threaded her other hand into his hair and stroke his dick faster. She wanted to make him come like this, thinking it would be hot, but Damon had other ideas, ideas she was not opposed to at all.

Damon pulled out and she flinched from the pain of two pairs of teeth pulling out of her. He licked the wounds, over and over. He kissed across her neck, smearing blood along the way, and then he licked the trail clean.

He nudged her and she fell back on the bed. He covered her body with his, and she hoped he wasn't thinking about kissing her with that mouth. Instead, he made a show of licking his mouth. She collected the blood he missed with her index finger and fed it to him. He groaned while sucking on her finger.

Damon hooked her left leg on his shoulder and rubbed her pussy with his dick while she played her fingers on his chest.

He still looked hungry, looked like his mind was currently in a haze because of her blood. She exhaled with satisfaction when he entered her and threw her other leg over his back. It was another reprieve, less than the kiss, which was understandable after the many orgasms he'd given her, but it was a peak after months of fighting, months of her giving herself yet another burden. After months of being teased by him, and of her teasing herself by way of denial, she was finally on top of the mountain.

His strokes started long and slow and became short and fast. He forced the breath from her; she gasped with need and moaned her encouragement, told him to keep going, told him he was doing it just right. She clawed at his sheets, and he watched her writhe under him, watched her close her eyes, watched her look down to where their bodies joined. He slammed into her to the point where her butt was lifted off the bed.

She was indeed a screamer. The closer to orgasm, the louder she got, the more demanding she got until she got what she wanted, and it was glorious to watch how she was barely able to handle it, how she had no control over how hard her orgasm hit her. The witch came undone while wearing his wound, and it was his undoing. He came and let go of months of frustration and desires that he didn't truly believe had a chance of being realized. He came inside her while she shook from her release. He continued humping her, slowing down as she caught her breath until he was doing lazy strokes.

"Shit." Bonnie was barely able to get the word out.

"I know."

Moments later, Damon walked out of his bathroom with something to clean her wound and cover it up. "I don't suppose you'll take my blood to heal you."

"No," Bonnie said matter-of-factly, lounging on the bed. Since she was no longer moving, the stinging of her neck was obvious.

"You are one tasty witch."

"Oh yeah?" She sat up so that he could bandage her. "What do I taste like?"

"Mmm." He thought it out as he wet the cotton ball and cleaned the wound. She sucked her breath through her teeth at the pain.

It dimmed Damon's heart to have to clean it. But they had a long...rough...night ahead of them, as far as he was concerned, and he know it would bother her if the wound stayed open to the elements. Plus it would tempt him too much. "_You _taste like power." He ignored her grimace and continued. "Like orgasm, hotness, stubbornness, danger. You taste like strength-"

"Damon, those aren't flavors," she said, sounding unimpressed.

"Well, you certainly don't taste like a peach," he replied, his voice as flat as hers as he placed the gauze on her neck and taped it down. "The taste of blood comes from two things: either how you, the vampire, feel or how your victim's feeling. Why do you think I like 'em scared and shaking?"

"Ugh." She knew he mostly fed from blood bags, but she'd had the feeling that he and Elena still bonded over some feeding debauchery.

"I'm sorry."

She frowned. She didn't think he had ever said those words to her.

"Can't have you losing your lady boner."

Bonnie looked at the ceiling. This was the man she wanted to sleep with.

"Anyways," he continued as he smoothed the tape over to ensure the gauze would stick, "Drinking the blood of someone you do know, magnifies how you already perceive, good or bad. Or good and bad. What you want from them, etcetera. In your case: everything I just said. I think you're hot," he said in her ear.

"Danger?" she asked throatily. "You're afraid of me?"

It was clear that the thought pleased her.

"Your screws tend to come loose," he whispered instead.

Bonnie's amusement disappeared, and he grinned. She stood and waved his comment away with a flip of her hair. She straddled him, and he watched her as he backed further onto the bed until they were in the middle of it.

"We need to make sure you get a good night's sleep tonight."

"We do."

**The End**


End file.
